Masquerade
by It's All A Facade
Summary: He's trapped, you see, in the spinning, beautiful madness of the masquerade- a face in a sea of masks.


**A/N- Another huge metaphor wrapped in a metaphor with a few more metaphors sprinkled in. Not as good as my last metaphor sandwich, I think, but I got the idea, so I wrote it.**

**Disclaimer- I own nothing.**

_"Masquerade! Every face a different shade_  
_Masquerade! Look around, there's another mask behind you."_

_-The Phantom of the Opera_

It's a masquerade; a confusing whirl of colours and music and laughter and light. He slips in and out of the commotion, almost invisible. He alone does not wear a mask.

He's not quite sure who he's looking for anymore, all he knows is that he's looking.

The ballroom is well-lit, but he might as well be in the dark.

They're all dancing, and that makes it harder to see their faces- their masks. It's hard to tell which is which.

_(Aha! Is that her?)_

He reaches out, but he trips over the skirts of a petite blonde whose face is completely obscured by a mask.

He wonders if they wear the masks because they know how hideous they really are.

She's gone before he gets back up, snatched up by the crowd.

But he knows what to look for this time. Brown hair.

The tune changes, and he whips his head up searching around wildly for the band.

The people still dance, but it's different somehow. He can't quite put his finger on it.

He's trying to figure it out when someone else whirls into him, knocking him over.

_(Well, of course you're going to fall over, silly boy! What, did you expect us to dance around you?) _

He gets back up with alarm- she isn't wearing a mask either! Wait, no- it's just incredibly lifelike. He might not have known if it hadn't just barely slipped. He backs away from her.

False alarm.

He's trapped, you see, in the spinning, beautiful madness of the masquerade- a face in a sea of masks.

_(Poor baby.)_

He's running around the ballroom, dodging the dancers, whipping his head back and forth, trying to spot her- and that in itself is his own beautiful little dance.

He's going insane- the music will do that to you, you know- and the masks seem to mock him, sparkling in the light of the chandelier above them.

He's pushed off the dance floor, of course- there was no more room left.

That's when he finally sees her, standing to the side.

She's looking in the mirrors on the wall, trying on masks. Some of them completely obscure her face, and some of them just barely cover the skin around her eyes.

They're all different in their own way; one is feathered, one that covers her face completely twists her mouth into a sneer, one sparkles in the light, one is green, one is blue, one is silver, one is encrusted with jewels- she seems to hate them all. She sets them in a glass vase resting on a table to the side when she is done with them, and a new one appears in her hands as soon as she puts one down.

She tries this one on- a simple mask that covers the top half of her face, pale pink and embroidered with roses. It crumbles into dust as soon as she tries it on and, enraged, she scoops up all of her old masks and hurls them at the mirror. The masks bounce off harmlessly, which seems to distress her greatly.

He clears his throat.

She turns and faces him, and her eyes widen with shock.

_(Are- are you...?)_

_(I'm real.)_

He drinks in her face hungrily. She's beautiful.

_(I've been looking for you.)_

She grimaces, looking at the dancers that pass them by without notice. She looks like she wants to escape, he notes.

_(The door creaks.)_

He looks over to the large wooden doors. He hadn't noticed them before.

_(Then open it slowly.)_

_(But then they'll notice!)_

_(Then run.)_

She looks at him, head tilted in confusion.

_(Run?)_

_(Don't you want to leave?)_

_(I... I'm not sure anymore.)_

He shakes his head and walks over to the doors. Carelessly flinging one open, he beckons to her.

_(Care to join me?)_

The music has stopped, everyone is staring at him. He offers her a reckless grin, but inside, he's melting, burning. She has to say yes, she has to.

She looks between her two choices: a bright party, full of masks and laughter and music. And then a beaming blonde boy offering her the world.

She gathers up her skirts and runs towards him, throwing one last- almost apologetic- glance to the party behind her. They quickly pass through the door, which shuts with a loud, resounding _thud! _behind them.

Everything is absolutely still for a moment, and then everything resumes, all at once.

A window, previously unnoticed, suddenly slides open. A young black-haired boy removes his mask and stares at it curiously.

**A/N- I realise this one is a lot more cryptic than the last one, and the metaphors don't match up as perfectly. *sigh* **

**Hope you liked it! And if you did, please review!**


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